Tag: Zaravala
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Bloodied Fists and Painted Lips
The pounding of fists against ground was far less satisfying than it would be against his skin, the rain pouring down, splashing against the dirt and what bare flesh peeked around leather upon her frame. Crimson locks hung heavily toward the soil as she fruitlessly beat the wet surface, her masked face a barrier to the world. Hands a knees, a position ill suited for the demon hunter, whose usually strict and proud stance now crumpled beneath her in the mess of rainwashed terrain.
Face the skies, worthless monster. Her memories echoed through her head and she obeyed, turning the open maw of her mask to the heavens, a place she knew she would never grace.
"What the fuck do you want from me!?" her voice echoed within her cover but rang...
One Last Time
Tapping his foot on the decimated
ground beneath him, the Ren'dorei shifted his grip on the dagger at
his side as he stood just to the left of the opening to his charge's
tent. The middle aged man, named Garrett, rustling around inside
caused Dizarak's ears to flick as he gauged the human's whereabouts
within.
Finally the dark haired human emerged from the canvas
flaps of the tent and scowled openly at his “babysitter” his
gloves clutched in his hand.
“You don't have to stay so
close to me, I can take any of these savage Horde with ease!”
Garrett spewed , slipping his glove onto the wrong hand and
immediately ripping it back off to correct his mistake. He finished
the process and unsheathed his sword, swinging it around and...
Letters to the Lost One
Resting with her back up against one of the few tress not wildly ablaze, the Illidari, slipped her gloves from her hands and draped them across her raised knee. Weeks of constant battle, order after order and gruesome vision after grueling death, even the stoic Demon Hunter was beginning to show signs of uneasiness.
Plucking her water-skin from her hip, she gingerly popped the cork and lifting it to the open maw of her mask, skillfully pouring it within, she lapped up the water until the dry scratching at the back of her throat eased.
Footfalls near by had her to her feet and glaives at the ready once more, the source of water tossed by the wayside in her haste. Before her stood a slightly startled mage an oddly pristine envelope...
